“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” — Mary Oliver
Experiences flow through our lives, our days, resembling a gushing waterfall that cascades. They arrive as moments of quiet reflectiveness, an exuberant drowning in sound sometimes, or a sudden stir of the heart that takes our breath away.
We experience a snapshot of seconds, a microcosm of inhabited moments, and a movie reel of minutes that pass all too fleetingly.
We all have occasions when we long to turn back time. Wouldn’t it be great to freeze-frame the highlights and press pause on the best moments of our lives?
Perhaps we could try to pay greater attention to it all, especially the golden glimpses that warm our souls.
Observing our lives is a lot like prayer. It’s gratitude in motion. A sacred act of appreciation and devotion.
We see more when we look with deliberate intent, seek to record with our eyes, and store away in our minds.
I’ve attempted to do that here as I view a pear tree releasing its blossom, listen to birdsong in the trees and the midday hymn singing.
Cascades Cascades of confetti carpet the grass, veil the trees, drape the garden plants, line the pathways, as soft white blossom drifts silently, detaches itself from its original home on the pyrus communis where it belongs. Cascades of birdsong trill through the trees, be they walnut, pear, apple or oak or magnificent magnolia, as it lilts through the leaves, threads its way between the boughs, and arches across the divide where bony branches stretch. Cascades of voices sing out their praise, whether wobbly and weak or with vigour and strength as the notes signal a hymn, unknown or familiar, for each one stems from a grateful heart tuned into hope and love. © joylenton
“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” — Henry Ward Beecher